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She contemplates this idea before putting her hand on mine, her fingers skimming the box. “I want to do it together.”
That sounds good to me. She picks at the paper while I hold the box. I tell her, “Whatever this is, it’s probably not as bad as Lily’s mail.”
I know it’s a weak comment. Cleo and Harper were Daisy’s best friends, not random sick fucks. She’s known Cleo since she was six.
Daisy nods. “Connor told me that Lily once got a used condom in the mail.”
I don’t even fucking ask for the context of that conversation between Connor and Daisy. I’m sure it was to explain something or make a point.
Daisy unties the ribbon and then lifts the lid.
Her mouth falls, and she plucks out a very expensive diamond bracelet. “I don’t…understand.” Her hands shake, probably thinking it’s a fucking trick.
I grab the bracelet from her, and the box slips and thuds to the floor. A note flutters out. I pick it up and go to hand it to her, but she dazedly returns to the staircase, plopping down next to Nutty.
The white husky nudges Daisy’s legs until her eyes focus on the dog. No longer faraway and lost.
“Read it,” she tells me.
“You okay?” I ask, eyeing her pale skin.
“Just confused.”
With a knot in my chest, I turn to the letter. “Hi Daisy,” I start. “It’s been a few years since prep school, and we’ve had a lot of time to think and grow up since then. We know you have too. We know your family is planning another reality show, and we’d love to be a part of it. It could definitely help us repair the friendship we lost. We miss you, truly!—for fuck’s sake,” I curse, their words tasting fucking foul in my mouth.
“Keep going,” Daisy prods.
I shift my weight and read with an agitated voice, “And congratulations on snagging Ryke Meadows. We always knew you were into older guys.” I look up at Dais like this is bullshit. I hope she sees that too, but she’s expressionless again. I glance at the letter “They do a wink face right there. And then they end with, please give us a chance. Love you always, Cleo and Harper.”
Daisy lets out a breath and rubs her cheeks like her face is clammy. “They’re just trying to get in on a non-existent reality show.” She shakes her head once.
The Calloway sisters have been approached multiple times for a second season of Princesses of Philly. It’s nothing new. But Cleo and Harper didn’t get the memo that it’s never going to fucking happen.
I walk forward and put my hands on the top of her head. She stares up at me, wide-eyed and beautiful. I want to fucking protect her from the pain that her friends bring, but I can’t shield her from people. I couldn’t do that four years ago. I can’t fucking do it now.
I’m just here when she needs me. Whatever she fucking wants. I’m here.
DAISY CALLOWAY
Jane Eleanor Cobalt is speaking French. I should clarify: a one-year-old baby is uttering French words, strung together to sound like complete sentences.
“She’s smarter than me,” Lily declares, nodding in astonishment. Wearing a baggy muscle tee and geometric printed leggings, Lily stares in awe at the fashionable baby dressed in a light blue romper while hugging a stuffed lion.
I adjust Jane’s headband that begins to fall off, something tugging inside of me. It’s not a good tug. It hurts more than a little, and I try to hide any signs of this silent grief. I don’t like that something so beautiful, my baby niece, brings these morose, contemplative emotions out of me.
She should only bring joy. That’s what babies do. They’re cute bundles of happiness with spirits livelier than every adult combined.
It’s my fault. I shouldn’t think about the possibility of having children when I’m with Jane.
“If it makes you feel any better,” I tell Lily, “I’ve been to France a ton and I can’t even understand her.”
“I’m still stupid.” Lily pops another BBQ chip in her mouth and crunches loudly. I’m about to tell my older sister that she’s just as smart as me when Moffy walks towards baby Jane. He looks stylish in gray pants, a black tee, and tiny white Converses.
He plops down next to Jane, coloring book in hand. I wiggle his little foot, and I wear a smile that I know looks happy.
Moffy flips open a page and mutters to Jane, words that are clearly not English. Uh-oh.
Lily coughs on her chip. “Did he…”
I pat her back, unsure of how she’ll take this news. “I think he might have spoken French,” I say. “Or maybe it was Spanish.” When we babysit, Ryke will read books to Moffy in Spanish. Lo and Lily don’t know, but we thought they wouldn’t mind.
I watch her reaction closely, and she goes from surprise to an elated smile, beaming in excitement. I even smile wider, happy that she’s happy. Lily wants the absolute best for her son, and so the prospect of Maximoff Hale knowing a foreign language must make her proud.
“Hey.” Willow waves to us after climbing down the stairs.
“Hi,” Lily and I say in unison.
Willow pushes her black-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She tucks her phone in a pocket of her worn overalls, and then heads for the kitchen, disappearing out of sight. My stomach tosses, uneasy about last night’s truth.
Ryke and I didn’t even go to bed until four in the morning. I was maxed out on excited energy from the proposal and nervous energy from Cleo and Harper’s impromptu visit. Instead of lying awake in silence—attempting and failing at falling asleep—Ryke hugged me on the bed and explained his father’s news.
The fact that Willow is Jonathan’s daughter and Ryke’s half-sister is crazy. Not bad crazy. Just a normal bout of crazy for the Hales.
So far, no one has any idea about Jonathan crashing our proposal night. Ryke told me that he wanted to tell his brother before he came up with a “plan” for Jonathan. The problem: Ryke’s always had trouble breaking any kind of news to Lo, and I know he’s just trying to find a good time.
Even if there’s never going to be a perfect moment to say: Hey, guess what, your half-sister is really your full sister and our dad wants a relationship with her. And…he wants me to help him. Surprise!
It doesn’t even sound great in my head. Plus, there are a lot of fucks left out of that proclamation.
Luckily for me, my friendship with Willow shouldn’t really change. She’s the one good friend I have in my life, especially when my old horrible friends are rising from the grave. That bracelet sits on my dresser, practically haunting me. I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s too expensive to just toss in the trash, and the thought of wearing it makes me want to puke.
Like Ryke, I have my own plans to concoct, only mine involve bribery bracelets and ex-friends.
“Did his ring choice surprise you?” Lily asks, splintering my thoughts.
“Hmm?” I say distractedly.
Lily frowns, and her eyes flicker to the babies and back to me in contemplation. Her hair is chopped short at her shoulders, and it sways when she looks between us. I don’t want Lily to think that being around her son makes me sad, even if it’s starting to become obvious.
I smile bigger and nudge her side.
She blinks a couple times and then smiles back, pointing at my hand. “Your ring.”
“Oh yeah.” I stare at the diamond sun. I would’ve taken string, honestly, but this reminds me so much of our relationship.
“Because,” Lily says, “I thought Ryke was going to give you twine or something.”
“Glad to know what you fuc
king think of me.” Ryke’s rough voice emanates from the foyer. He appears with two motorcycle helmets in hand, his jeans ripped at the knee and his hair massively disheveled. Just meeting his gaze, that dark and dangerous stare, lightens solemn parts of me.
I bounce to my feet, my smile stretching.
“You gave her twine for her birthday!” Lily rebuts. “It’s an honest prediction.” She munches on a handful of chips.
Ryke rolls his eyes. “I gave her a fucking hemp bracelet. How about you stop trying to predict our futures?”
Lily pouts and mutters, “I thought I was getting good at it.”
“You are.” I stick up for my sis. “Julian was the worst. You predicted that, remember?”
“I did.” Lily nods in triumph and points at Ryke. “Ha!”
Ryke looks between us, a glare forming at the mere mention of my ex-boyfriend. “I thought we banned his fucking name.” That was Lo’s declaration. He hates him almost as much as Ryke.
“Sorry.” I playfully wince.
Ryke hands me a motorcycle helmet and then kisses the top of my head. “We need to talk,” he says so quietly, I almost miss the words.
“Okay,” I whisper back and then turn towards the living room. “Bye, Lil!”
“Bye!” she says. “Good luck!”
“Bye bye!” Moffy says with a laugh attached.
“Bye,” Jane giggles.
My heart clenches, and I feel Ryke’s hand on my lower back, guiding me through the foyer and out the door. We walk down the sidewalk to the driveway, two Ducati sportbikes leaning on their kickstands. Rose’s Escalade is parked by the curb, the engine running.
“My sisters didn’t help you pick out the ring then?” I wonder, slightly shifting the topic off babies, even though I know it’s going to hit me soon. Full force. Without stop.
“I just asked Rose for your ring size.” He halts in front of the red bike, his hand sliding to my hip. He draws me to his chest, and I note the seriousness in his pinched brows. “If you want to change your mind, you still can, Dais.”
